


I Hate How You Smile

by RadioGumdrop



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, High School AU, M/M, POV Alternating, POV First Person, alternate universe - high school setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioGumdrop/pseuds/RadioGumdrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name is Jean Kirschstein.  He is a cocky asshole.  He’s snarky, he’s sassy, and he has a stupid haircut.  He has too many piercings and is disrespectful.  He’s an idiot and gets terrible grades.  I hate him.</p><p>His name is Marco Bodt.  He’s a snotty goody-two-shoes know-it-all.  He’s a spoiled brat, and he gets whatever he wants.  He has stupid freckles all over his body and is a giant asskisser.  I hate him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hate How We're The Same

*Jean*

\---

 

This is the kind of shit that happens when there’s only two out kids in the entire school.Constant annoyances, constant questions, constant pestering.Do you like him?Do you think he’s cute?Would you date him?The answers are always the same: no, no, and _fuck_ no.

 

But this is what happens.Every day, I deal with this annoying shit because I just so happen to be openly gay.If I was still in the closet, no one would be asking me if I thought _Marco Bodt_ , of all people, was attractive.The guy is a total nerd, if you ask me.He has these stupid freckles on his face, and sometimes it kind of looks like some sort of disease.He always dresses up, mainly because he’s the senior class president.And the nerd always has his stupid hair parted down the middle.It’s not cool at all, unlike me.I’m the definition of cool.Look in the dictionary, and you’ll see **Jean Kirschstein** written in bold.

 

This has been my life since sophomore year, when I came out.I remember Marco came out over the summer, over a Facebook status.I never made some sort of formal message to everyone.I just started wearing really flamboyant clothing and got a bunch of piercings.Gotta embrace the gay.

 

Let me tell you a little bit about myself.I go to Rose Public High School, a medium sized school in Trost, New Jersey.Trost is in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.There’s cornfields in my backyard, abandoned silos across the street, and cow pastures that smell like they’re completely filled with shit.The closest movie theater is a town over and when I’m not looking at corn, I’m surrounded by pine trees.There’s not much to do here, and in the summer, everyone leaves to go down the shore.  

 

My school isn’t very big, with around 800 students.It’s a two-story building with multiple wings.Each wing contains different types of classes.The C-wing a circle that holds the math, english, and most science classes.The D-wing is a curved hallway that goes around one side of the circle.It has the social studies, foreign language, and some science classes.The other three wings are the A, B, and F wings, which most of the electives.The weirdest part of my school is the scheduling system, which I’m not even going to get into.We have 8 classes, but 13 class periods.It’s confusing explaining it.

 

Next period, my 4/5th period, I have gym, the only class I have with Marco.I dread it every day, considering I have to hear “Hey, Jean, I swear I saw you checking out Marco’s ass,” from not only the guys in the locker room, but also from the girls.Can’t everyone just leave it alone?I don’t like him, I don’t find him attractive.Frankly, I hate him.

 

I generally try to get to gym early so I can change before Marco gets there.That way I don’t have to hear my stupid friend, Connie, teasing me.I look over my shoulder to see if Connie is behind me, and I see the bald idiot running towards me.

 

“Hey, Jean, gonna give Marco a strip tease today?” he asked, running his hands over his short body.I gagged at the sight and rolled my eyes.

 

“Can’t you drop it?You know I hate him, dude,” I said, slugging Connie in the arm.He rubbed the sore area, and laughed.  

 

“Come on, man, lighten up.I’m just joking!” he sighed, rolling his eyes.“You’re such a hardass.Learn to take a joke.”

 

“Whatever, I’m just sick of everyone asking me about that guy,” I answered, opening the door to the locker room.To my dismay, Marco was already there.I saw him in front of the locker he adopted, rummaging through his frosh pack for his gym clothes.I rolled my eyes again.He’s such a loser.

 

I quickly got changed, just in case Marco decided to give a little peek.I wouldn’t blame him, though.I’m pretty jacked.Once Connie and I are dressed, we go back to the gymnasium for class.We’re playing pickle ball, which is basically giant ping-pong.My teacher set up a silly tournament for us.I paired up with Connie, and lo and behold, we were going up against Marco and this weird blond kid named Thomas.

 

I gave Connie a sly look and leaned over to him.I made sure that Connie and I had a plan to completely decimate Marco’s team.We started the game, I served over to Marco’s square, making sure I hit the stupid ball as hard as possible.

 

The fucker _yelped_ when he saw how hard I hit the ball.Fucking _yelped._ I couldn’t contain myself.I started laughing my ass off, as Thomas gave me a glare.I’m gayer than Marco and I don’t even fucking yelp.I slapped Connie on the back as Marco went to fetch the ball.When he came back, he threw the ball back to me.

 

“Don’t hit it so hard next time,” Marco said, scratching the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed.I calmed down and threw my hands up.

 

“Alright, alright, fine, fine,” I said, serving the ball like a normal person.The game went on as normal, but when I was feeling particularly asshole-ish, I would smack the ball as hard as possible with the damn paddle.I think I hit Marco about three times all class, a new personal record.

 

Although, because of my personal record, I was given a strict talking-to by the gym teacher.He said something stupid about bullying and respecting someone for their sexual orientation or some shit like that.Does the guy not notice my gayness?

 

Thankfully, my fangirls didn’t ask me about being in love with Marco today.Hopefully my teasing didn’t come across as flirting.

 

Walking out of the locker room, I heard Marco grumbling to himself.

 

“I hate how we’re the same,” I heard him growl.  

 

We are not the same, Marco.Not even close.

 


	2. I Hate Your Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to get rid of the "Shippers", Jean proposes a strange plan to Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun with this AU! Marco's character is relatively difficult to write because of how sweet he is in Canon. I hope I did him justice!
> 
> My Tumblr is radiogumdrop.

*Marco*

\---

 

I guess you could say I was seething, crumbling, being trampled.  I’ve been a target for bullying on many different occasions, but this was the first time someone targeted me for many years.  If I was bullied, it all ended in a matter of weeks, sometimes even a few days.  The bully would get tired of me glaring at them and involving teachers.  Unfortunately, Jean has been bullying me since sophomore year, after I got him in trouble for cheating off of me.  

 

Jean considers me an asskisser, a goody-two-shoes, and a know-it-all.  He’s not stretching the truth, considering I am in all honors and AP classes, ranked #7 in our graduating class, and the senior class president.  I’ve overheard him saying that’s why he hates me.  I don’t blame him.  Jean is one of the stupidest people I’ve had the chance of meeting.  He’s probably jealous of my intelligence, considering he’s stuck conversing with that idiot Connie Springer.  I would say Connie has half a brain, but it’s been proven that people that have had a hemispherectomy can function like a normal human.  Considering that, I wonder what’s wrong with Connie? 

 

Jean’s lack of intelligence isn’t the only reason why I hate the guy.  He’s overly flamboyant and obnoxious, especially with his clothing.  Jean Kirschstein is like a walking display of gay culture.  I’m surprised he doesn’t walk around with dildos glued to his face.  Instead, he graces me with his ornate facial piercings.  His ears are pierced all along the cartilage, and he has his nose and eyebrow pierced.  It looks absolutely trashy.  Whenever someone asks me if I find him attractive (like my friend Mina, for example), I become confused.  Has anyone taken a good look at him?  Even though I am gay, that does not mean I find every single man attractive.  I have my own tastes, and Jean is not one of them.  I like my men clean cut and responsible, and Jean is neither of those things.

 

This year, I am glad that I am only stuck with Jean for one period.  Last year, I had two classes with him: personal finance, and music technology.  Rose Public High School requires all students to take a business, visual/performing art, and technology class.  The flaw in this, is that intelligent students like me are put into the same class as morons like Jean Kirschstein.  Thankfully, he couldn’t throw things at me, like in gym class.

 

I did not understand why our gym teacher put our teams together today.  I already have to deal with Jean for 42 minutes every day, why make me socialize with him?  And with Connie, too.  I don’t need a double-dose of stupid.  Along with being infected by Jean and Connie’s simplemindedness, I was hit in the face twice and in the chest once by Jean.  I, clearly, am the better person, so I refrained from hitting Jean back.  I could tell my friend Thomas was getting annoyed as well, but I managed to keep him calm.

 

When gym was over, I walked with Mina and Thomas to our AP psychology class.  I was annoyed and angry, and kept my fists balled in my jean pockets to keep myself from strangling someone.  Mina noticed that I was in a bad mood and tried to ruffle my hair to make me feel better.  She’s much shorter than me, so she had to jump up to reach me.  I smiled at her.  Even though she thinks Jean and I should date, she’s still my friend, and I find her adorable.

 

“Come one, Marco, cheer up!  No more HorseFace for the rest of the day!” Mina said, grabbing onto my arm.  “You won’t have to see his dumb face for another 24 hours!” She gave me another one of her bright smiles.

 

“Yes, Mina, that sounds great and all, but even so, I have to deal with him for the rest of the year,” I said, rolling my eyes.

 

“Next semester it’ll be easier!  In health you won’t have to worry about stray pickle balls,” Thomas said, giving me a slap on the shoulder.  I groaned.

 

“No, Thomas, it won’t.  Do you have any idea what senior health is going to be like with Jean?  He’ll be making dirty jokes every second during the family planning unit,” I sighed, pressing my fingers into my temples.  “In fact, it might even be worse.” Thomas, Mina, and I turned into the D-wing where our class was located.

 

“There’s no way dick jokes are worse than getting hit in the face,” Thomas said.  I looked over to him with hateful eyes, my freckles straining under my pursed skin.  “What?  I’d rather be annoyed than be at risk of getting a concussion.”  I let out another groan, and the three of us entered our classroom.  My assigned seat is close to the teacher’s desk, right in front of Mina, and behind the valedictorian, Armin Arlert.  Thomas sits near the back of the classroom, as we are still seated alphabetically.  Our teacher, Mr. Levi, a short, stern, and intimidating man, entered the room soon after us. 

 

Class was relatively uneventful.  We had a lesson on altered states of consciousness, such as sleep, hypnotism, and meditation.  I found it to be a rather helpful lesson, as I could use meditation to ease myself of the stress Jean gives me every day.  Maybe I could hypnotize Jean into being a more pleasant person.  Mr. Levi assigned a test on the lesson next Tuesday and handed out a packet for homework.  As I was leaving, I saw Mina laughing with two other girls.  I glared in their direction, knowing exactly what they were laughing about. 

 

Another reason why I hate Jean is the fact that our shared homosexuality draws in “shippers”, girls, and sometimes boys, that desperately want Jean and me to be in a romantic relationship.  There is at least one shipper in every single one of my classes, and in psychology, there are four of them: Mina, Hannah, Krista, and this tall, sweaty guy named Bertholdt.  I thought I would be able to stay away from their constant questions, but today I was not lucky.  Mina already spilled the beans about Jean’s “flirting” in gym class.  I saw Hannah and Krista giggling to themselves while I was leaving class, and as I glared at them, I saw Bertholdt tense up.

 

“Bertl, what are they talking about?” I asked him, my voice dark.  Bertholdt started to grow red in the face and anxiously searched the hallway for his friend, a burly tough-guy named Reiner.  Reiner is the captain of the football team and has a very stereotypical Hollywood teenager look.  “Bertholdt, answer my question, please.” 

 

“Uh, um, w-well, Hannah just thinks that you and Jean might secretly have feelings for each other, and um, Krista was saying that if you and Jean dated, then maybe your levelheadedness would rub off on him.  Uh, haha, just a thought,” Bertholdt said, pressing his fingers together and avoiding eye contact.

 

“You think I could make Jean act more responsible?” I asked, getting intrigued at the thought.  I do admit, I quite liked the idea, but not enough to actually date him.  Bertholdt nodded quickly, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.  He looked around the door again, and saw Reiner waiting for him.

 

 “Hehe, well, I uh, gotta go.  See you, Marco!” Bertholdt said, running out of the classroom and clutching onto Reiner’s arm.  Reiner patted Bertholdt on the head and rubbed his back.  If I didn’t know the two of them, I’d think they were dating.  As far as I know, they are just best friends. 

 

Most of the time, the shippers cause less stress than Jean, but the rumors they start are infuriating.  Every year I’d have to pry people away from me, because they’d ask me personal questions about boyfriends or questions about Jean.  “Hey, Marco, is it true that Jean has his dick pierced?” “Marco, is it you or Jean that takes it up the ass?”  I do not want those questions asked to me, and I do not want to know the answers to either of the questions.  The shippers can get downright invasive.  Sometimes I wonder if Jean gets the same questions, and I’ve even considered reporting people for sexual harassment.

 

I would love to get rid of the shippers, but there isn’t any solution that would really work out in either mine or Jean’s favor.  The only solution I could think of would be to date Jean.  I would never want to succumb to the shippers that way.  I’d have to lose all of my self-respect for that to ever happen.  I shuddered at the thought, confused as to why my brain would even think of that.

 

The rest of my day was uneventful.  My schedule is relatively simple, with Lunch right after psychology, and finishing my day with genetics, Latin 4, and AP calculus 2.  None of my clubs were meeting today, so I hurried to my locker and then to my parking spot.  Getting out of the school’s campus takes forever if you don’t run to the lots quick enough.  Some seniors are lucky to get spots in the lots on the ends of campus, Field Hockey and Volleyball.  Because I am senior class president, I got a parking spot in Cafeteria, the lot closest to the school.  The other three lots are Gymnasium, Paved, and Rocks, which are also relatively good lots.  I managed to get out early and was off campus by 2:30. 

 

My days go by slowly, as I don’t have a job.  I have no time to work with all the homework and school activities I manage.  I would love to have a job, but one of my worst fears is having to work in the same place as Jean.  What if I wound up flipping burgers with the guy?  He’d probably spit in the food I’d be serving.

 

When I finished my homework and dinner, I decided to go on Facebook to see if there were any seniors signed up for a few school activities.  However, when I signed on, I saw that I had a Facebook message.  I was surprised, since I don’t really use Facebook much.  I figured it was someone asking for notes or a homework assignment. 

 

When I opened the message, I froze.

 

It wasn’t from an absent classmate or a slacker in any of my classes.

 

It was from the last person I’d expect it to be from.

 

The message was clear as day:

 

**To: Marco Bodt**

**From: Jean Kirschstein**

**hey asskissr i ned 2 ask u a ??**

 

I almost fainted.  Not only was the message from Jean, but it was also horribly typed.  It’s not that hard to type out complete sentences.  I gulped.  What did Jean want from me?  If he was asking me about the pickle ball test on Friday, then I was going to throw a fit.

 

**To: Jean**

**From: Marco**

**This better be important.  What is it?**

 

I admit I was being harsh, but why should I be nice to someone who’s been torturing me for years?

 

**From: Jean**

**jesus calm dwn dude its justa ? neway the stupd fangrls r rly getn on my nerves.  hbu?**

 

**To Jean:**

**Yes, they get on my nerves.  Krista, Hannah, and Bertholdt were talking about us in my psych class today.**

 

**From: Jean**

**o no wat were they saiyan??**

 

**To: Jean**

**They were saying that my levelheadedness would rub off on you if we started dating.**

 

**From: Jean**

**oh man thats wayyy better than wat Jaeger sed 2day**  

 

**To: Jean**

**What did he say?**

 

**From: Jean**

**does marcos dick have freckles on it**

 

My face grew hot at what Jean typed to me.  I couldn’t believe what Eren asked Jean.  Eren is not only obsessed with Jean and I, but he is also homophobic and constantly throws slurs and Jean, Bertholdt, Reiner, and I.  He’s friends with Armin, and sometimes I don’t know how Armin can deal with Eren’s behavior.  I looked at Jean’s message again and didn’t even dare to answer him.  Why was he even messaging me anyway?  He’s never done this before.  I decided to ask him.

 

**To Jean:**

**Why are you even messaging me?  What was that weird question you had?**

 

It took a whole ten minutes for Jean to answer me.  The first thing I noticed was his improved spelling, grammar, and punctuation.  However, I started to feel sick as I read the message.  I clutched my stomach

 

**From: Jean**

**Well, I’m sick and tired of these fangirls and fanboys asking me about you.  I don’t want anything to do with you, honestly.  You’re such a snob, and you’re so pretentious.  Anyway, I really want these girls to stop harassing me.  I thought of a bunch of different ways to get rid of them, like reporting them for sexual harassment, but there’s too many girls to get rid of.  So I thought, why not appease them?  I was thinking we could fake date for like a week or so to get them off our backs.  I really don’t want to do this, but it’s literally the only thing I could think of.**

 

I read and reread the message about twenty times before I could understand everything he was saying.  Jean’s been getting sick questions, too, and has even considered reporting them for sexual harassment.  He hates the shippers as much as I do.  Jean even gave them his own nickname.  I thought he would’ve eaten up the attention, since he’s such an attention whore.  But that question he asked me.  Appease the shippers by fake dating.  I have no idea what exactly we’d be doing by “fake dating”.  Jean needs to elaborate on this plan.

 

**To: Jean**

**Fake dating?  How would that work?**

 

The reply came almost instantly, intact with spelling errors.

 

**From: Jean**

**basicly wed have 2 pretend 2 date wile at school. like wed have 2 do coupley things @ school, like hold hnds and shit like that.**

 

I gagged.  Hold hands?  With Jean Kirschstein?  That sounds absolutely disgusting.

 

**To Jean:**

**There is no way I’m touching your grubby hands.  There is also no way I’ll be able to even pretend to like you.  I’ll probably crack within the first five minutes.**

**From: Jean**

**pls dude?  hear me out.  i really dont want fucking jaeger asking me questions about you.  plus itll get those annoying girls off ur back**

 

I read his message a few times, letting more information sink in.  I don’t want to be bombarded with questions either.  The only girl this plan wouldn't shut up would be Mina. She would just be intrigued by a relationship between Jean and me. She's like a hyperactive puppy. She never sits down. 

 

**To: Jean**

**How long do you expect this to go on?**

 

**From: Jean**

**a week tops i sware & thn we can stop just until erryone stps annoying us**

 

It took all my courage to type the message I sent to Jean. 

 

**To: Jean**

**I hate your ideas.  This is an absolutely terrible idea.  But, you know what, I hate these shippers just as much as you hate them.  I’m sick and tired of them too.  I’ll pretend to date you, but only for a week.  Just one week and then we “break up” and end this stupid charade.**

 

I couldn’t believe I was actually agreeing to this idea.  I felt sick to my stomach.  Bile was starting to build up.  For a week I’d have to act like a loving boyfriend to Jean Kirschtein.  I’d have to hold his hand, walk with him to class, smile at him, and maybe even kiss him.  I felt my face grow sweaty and my mouth began to water.  My vision began to blur and I felt myself lurch forward. 

 

**From: Jean**

**sounds gud, see u 2morrow boyfriend ;)**

 

I promptly ran to my bathroom and vomited my entire dinner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Marco's schedule:  
> 1: AP World Cultures  
> 2: AP English  
> 3: AP Physics B (2nd year physics)  
> 4/5: Physical Education (Semester 1)/Health (Semester 2)  
> 6/7: AP Psychology  
> 8: Lunch  
> 9/10: Genetics (Honors)  
> 11/12: Latin 4 (Honors)  
> 13: AP Calculus 2
> 
> These classes are all available at my school. No one takes AP Physics B because the teacher is impossible, so I thought it'd be funny putting Marco in that class.
> 
> If I made any typos, feel free to tell me!


	3. I Hate The Stares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm doing this. This is stupid. This is awkward. This is embarrassing. This is Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long D: It was killing me, but I'm proud of the end result. I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! I love hearing feedback.
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's my Tumblr](http://radiogumdrop.tumblr.com/)

*Jean*

\---

I’ve woken up about five times last night.  The first time was because I had to take a giant piss.  Second time, I was really hungry, and I wasn’t just going to neglect my poor rumbly tummy.  The third time was because it was way too fucking hot and I had to take off my pants.  I woke up the fourth time because my stupid and fat-as-fuck cat decided to sit on my face.  Now, it’s the fifth time, and it’s 5:30 in the morning.  My alarm goes off at 6:00, so I didn’t even think it was worth it to go back to sleep.  I wasn’t going to be looking like a beauty queen anyway.  With this extra half hour, I can plan out exactly how my fake dating plan will work out.

 

I shuddered.  Why did I even think of that idea?  And why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to ask Marco about it?  Christ, I’m such an idiot.  He’s going to think I have a thing for him, which I definitely do not.  Hopefully this will help get rid of the fangirls and appease their ravenous appetite for hot gay men.  Goddamn, if I have to fucking kiss Marco Fucking Bodt, I will probably punch someone, most likely his freckled face.

 

I ran my fingernails through my hair and scratched the back of my neck.  Today is going to be horrible.  Actually, let me rephrase that.  This whole week is going to be horrible.  For the next seven goddamn days, I have to pretend to be in love with Marco.  The only way this could get any worse is if the guy is in my lunch period.  I don’t even want to think about what sitting with him and his stupid friends will be like.  Does he even have friends?  What person can handle his bossiness for more than an hour?  Marco probably tramples over all his friends.

 

I figured it was time to roll out of bed and get ready for the day.  I shuffled over to my dresser to pick out my outfit.  In order to make Marco a complete embarrassed mess, I decided to pull out my tightest pair of skinny jeans and my LGBTQ t-shirt from a gay pride parade I went to this summer.  I laid them out on my bed and trudged to the bathroom.

 

The light from the bathroom was blinding at this time of day.  I had to blink a few times to get completely used to it.  I turned on the sink and washed my face before getting hair gel from the cabinet.  I ran a small amount through the longer, bleached area of my hair to make it look extra fluffy.  I brushed my teeth and finished off my routine with my contacts.  Without them, I’d be unable to see anything.  Although, being blind for the week might not be a bad idea.  That way I wouldn’t be able to see Marco at all.  But on the downside, I wouldn’t be able to kick his ass at pickle ball.

 

By the time I got myself dolled up for the day, it was already 6:00.  I leave at around 6:40 to beat all the the school traffic.  Rose Public High School is located in the worst area of Trost.  The school is on the very end of town, and there are only two roads to get there, and at one point, the two roads converge into one.  Traffic is terrible, which is why I have to leave forty minutes before homeroom starts at 7:20.  I decided to indulge myself with my extra time to eat a nice, healthy, well-rounded breakfast of chocolate chip waffles.  The rest of the morning went as normal, and I left at 6:40 like I usually do.

 

When I got to school, I stayed in my car for a few minutes, scared out my mind to even walk to the building.  I park all the way in field hockey, so I had about a ten minute walk to school to think about how I was going to handle the “situation”.  I turned my car off, cutting out the radio.  I took a deep breath, grabbed my backpack, and started the walk across the field hockey fields.

 

I dragged my feet against the wet grass, trying to enjoy the cool October air before I had to enter the building and pretend to be a loving, caring, and fabulous boyfriend to Marco Bodt.  As I got even closer, I became even more nervous.  My stomach twisted into knots, my feet grew numb and heavy.  Different scenarios of “what if’s” ran through my head at a breakneck pace.  What if Connie sees us together?  What if this doesn’t appease the fangirls?  What if we get bullied and teased?  What if Marco tells his friends?  Hopefully Marco completely forgot about the whole thing.  That would be the best scenario.

 

He didn’t forget.  The bastard was leaning against my locker.  How the hell the guy found where it was is beyond me.  He was scowling, his nose wrinkled and turned up.  His arms were crossed and he looked like he was going to murder someone.  I glared at him and scratched the back of my neck, thinking of something to say to him.  Of course, this tactic did not work.  I am Jean Kirschstein, king of spewing word vomit any second he can get.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked.  Marco turned to face me, letting out a frustrated sigh.

 

“You know exactly why I’m here, Kirschstein.  I thought you were a little smarter than that, but I guess not,” Marco retorted.  I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him.

 

“Listen, I don’t wanna do this either.  It was literally the only fucking thing I could think of,” I said, putting my hands up in self defense.  “Now, let’s get the basic shit over and done with.  Gimme your phone.” I took my phone out and handed it to Marco.  He hesitantly gave me his.  I typed in my contact info just in case we were ever going to need it.  Before I handed it back to him, I thought of something perfect.  I gave him a sly grin before typing in my name and giving it back.  Marco looked at my contact and his face twisted in disgust.

 

“Seriously?  Big Boy with a winky face and two hearts?  You’re disgusting,” Marco said, shoving his phone in his pocket.  I raised my eyebrow at him, questioning why he didn’t change the name.  “It makes the act more believable.  Anyway, what do you have first period?” Marco asked.  Oh no, he’s going to walk me to class.

 

“S-sociology,” I stammered, my face growing hot.  I looked down towards the ground and scratched the back of my neck, enjoying the prickly feeling of my undercut.  Marco sighed and shoved both his hands in his pockets.

 

“I have world cultures.  I don’t want to do this, but I’ll walk you to class,” Marco said, shuddering at the idea.  “At least the shippers will enjoy it.”  Marco gave a small laugh and I caught a glimpse at a smile.  His entire face seemed to light up in that one split second.  It was hard to look away from it.  I gave a soft smile in return, letting my eyes grow soft.  I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair.  

 

“Well, I’m going to homeroom.  See you later, snot,” I said, giving Marco a little salute.  I walked into my homeroom, almost slamming my head on my desk.  My face was still burning, I knew it was beat red.  And from what?  Marco’s stupid little smile?  I’m so embarrassed.  Messing up my hair isn’t going to fix this.

 

And to top things off, Eren Fucking Jaeger is in my homeroom, and the bastard made fun of my blushing face for the entirety of homeroom.  Of course he had to see Marco and I talking at my locker.  When homeroom finished, I tried bolting it out of my classroom and running to my first period class.  However, as I ran past one room, I was pulled back.  Marco had grabbed the back of my shirt.

 

“Jeez, Marco, watch it.  You’re gonna kill me,” I said, pulling my shirt out of his hands.  “You were serious about walking me to class?” I asked, looking at his unamused expression.  Marco nodded curtly.

 

“Where is it?” he asked, crossing his arms.

 

“Lower D-wing.  Come on,” I said, motioning for him to follow me.  Marco walked right next to me, his shoulder touching mine.  I tried to shy away.  Why is he getting so into the act?  I turned to look away from his stern face, which was making mine burn with embarrassment.  I was supposed to be the one embarrassing him.  How did things become the opposite?

 

“People are looking at us,” Marco stated, his voice deadpan.  I looked up, and, sure enough, there were kids staring right at our touching shoulders.  I saw some girls turn to their friends and whisper to each other.  No doubt they were talking about Marco and me.  This is the first time the two of us have been near each other without getting into a fight.  I could tell, though, that Marco was suppressing his embarrassment and anger from being near me.

 

“I guess it’s working then,” I said.  “I wonder what they would do if we held hands?” I turned to Marco and waggled my eyebrows, and he pretended to gag.

 

“Gross.  I’m not touching your hands.  They might have some infectious disease on them.” At that, Marco inched away from my shoulder, realizing that I might be diseased in other areas.

 

“What the hell kind of disease could you catch from me anyway?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.  I looked over to Marco and was surprised to find that he was actually a good half a head taller than me.  I’ve never noticed.

 

“Stupidity.  Maybe a virus that eats away at brain matter.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you had something like that, considering the types of classes you take,” Marco teased, looking down at me.  I huffed and turned away from him again.  Normally I am pretty good at thinking of witty comebacks.  I’m just getting flustered is all.  

 

I didn’t say anything for the rest of the walk to first period.  When I saw my room, I stopped walking and rubbed the back of my neck.  Marco turned around.

 

“Uh, this is me,” I said, looking away.  Jeez, why was I getting so nervous?  Marco didn’t look nervous at all.  He crossed his arms and sighed.

 

“Alright, then.  Don’t expect anything from me,” he said as he walked away.  I sighed, and dragged my hands down my face.  That was horrible.  This idea was horrible.  Those stares that we got were horrible.  I am completely embarrassed that I was seen walking to class with the freckled snob.

 

My first three periods were not, unfortunately, uneventful.  Sociology was the worst of the three, considering everyone just saw me with Marco.  I wanted to brush them off, tell them that nothing was going on between us.  We were paired for a stupid extracurricular project.  But I had to tell them the truth.  As much as it pained me and made me sick to my stomach, I had to tell them that Marco and I were dating.

 

“Hey, Jean, I saw you walking with Marco!  And he was at your locker, too!  What’s going on?” asked a fangirl.  Don’t even bother asking me for her name.  I honestly don’t keep tabs on anyone in my classes.  With Marco away from me, I was able to calm down and cool, collected Jean resurfaced.  I could use this time to completely make up a perfect scenario and lie about everything.

 

Leaning back in my desk, I groaned, “Aww, man, you guys saw us?  We were going to keep it a secret.” The fangirl perked up at that, scooting her desk closer to mine.  She placed her head into her hands.

 

“What do you mean, ‘secret’?” she asked, her eyes widening in anticipation.  

 

“Well, um, I didn’t want to tell everyone like this, and neither did Marco, but I guess I have no choice,” I said, pausing for dramatic effect.  A few more girls have crowded around me, eager to know what I was going to say.  “Man, I hope Marco doesn’t kill me for this, but, anyway, we’re dating.”

 

And that was the worst decision of my life.

 

It was worse than jumping off my roof when I was 10.  It was worse than eating six-month expired Kraft mac and cheese.  It was worse than egging my 5th grade teacher’s house on mischief night.  It was worse than asking Marco to fake date me.

 

Because at that very moment, every single girl in my sociology class started screaming like I was some sort of celebrity.  They were all hugging each other, smiling, jumping, like I had just told them that our class won a million dollars each.

 

“Jeanmarco is canon!” I heard a girl cheer to a friend.  What the fuck?  They gave us one of those relationship names?  I thought people only did that with celebrities.  I stared at the wild herd of females in my class in bewilderment.  I pressed my palms together and prayed, “Thank you Lord Jesus for making me a homosexual.  Thank God that I don’t have to deal with insane girls.”

 

It took fifteen minutes for my teacher to calm down the beasts.

 

The news of my new “relationship status” spread like wildfire.  Girls and guys alike were texting their friends in class.  They were posting it on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter.  Any social media those maggots could get to.  I wondered how quickly the news spread to Marco’s social circle.  I have a feeling he’s not going to be too happy about this once gym comes around.

 

By second period, half the school knew about it.  I was bombarded by questions when I walked into class.  It took almost the first half of class for the teacher to calm everyone down.  We got nothing done that day.  I didn’t mind.  It was only pre-calculus.

 

By third period, everyone in school knew.  Even teachers who were previously oblivious to situation in the first place understood what was going on.  My chemistry teacher, Mr. Zacharius, congratulated me and said that it was a good thing I was accepting my sexuality.  I’ve already accepted it.  Do you see my gay pride t-shirt?

 

Don’t even get me started about gym class.  It was complete and utter torture.  I’d rather have my fingernails removed than go back to gym class.  I was embarrassed, but not just from being bombarded by more questions.  “When did you guys start to like each other?” “Have you gone on a date?” “Have you kissed?” I also had to be near Marco, and unfortunately, we were closer than yesterday.

 

It was all Connie’s fault, of course.  He was so confused about the entire situation that he pulled me into the locker room to confront me about it.

 

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” Connie demanded, letting my shirt go.  He ran his hand over his buzz cut and sighed.  “I’m really confused right now.  Yesterday we were pelting pickle balls at him, and today you’re his boyfriend.  What the hell happened?” I took this opportunity to utilize my quick wit.

 

“Yeah, Marco finally realized the romantic qualities of pickle balls,” I said with a smirk.  Connie slugged my arm.

 

“You know what I mean, man!  Why the hell are you and Marco dating?  I thought you hated each other!” Connie cried out.  I really want to tell him the truth, but he’ll just spill the beans to the entire school.  I don’t even know what would happen if the secret was to come out.  Just imagine around 400 rabid fangirls finding out their favorite ship was fake the whole time.  I’d be dead in seconds.  I can’t let that happen.  The world would miss my absolute perfect face.  Even if it hurts me, I have to lie to Connie.

 

“Well, clearly we don’t hate each other.  That’s why we’re dating.  I’ll have you know that Marco and I like each other very much,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the locker.  It took all my inner strength to not barf in my mouth.

 

“If that’s the case, then Marco and I will switch teams,” Connie said, probably trying to see through my lies.  He’s not very book smart, but when it comes to his friends, Connie usually knows what’s up.  Connie knows that if I was lying, I’d completely shut down his proposal to switch teams.  I have to make sure he believes me.

 

“Alright, fine, we’ll switch teams,” I said, trying not to cry.  Sharing a court with Marco is worse enough, I don’t need to be playing with him.  But I need to keep this act up.  I can’t screw it up on the first fucking day.  “Marco and I will destroy you and Thomas.”

 

“I don’t think so.  Thomas and I will be a fantastic team,” Connie said, challenging me.  I smirked.  There was no way I was going to let Connie beat me.  

 

“Game on, Baldy,” I said, walking out of the locker room.  I quickly searched the gym for Thomas and Marco.  It wasn’t too hard, because Marco was surrounded by girls, and Thomas was completely butted out of the circle.

 

This was a perfect opportunity to act as the “loving boyfriend” so I strutted up to Marco and squirmed my way into the tight circle the girls made.

 

“Jean!” one of the girls, Mina, I think her name was, said.  “I was just asking Marco about you!” She gave me a bright smile and looked up at me.  I gave a small chuckle.

 

“Sorry, ladies, but do you mind if I borrow him?” I asked, trying to make my expression look as painless as possible.  Some of the girls gave us a little pouty face and gave a collective “awww” before letting me take Marco from their life-sucking grasp.  I saw that Connie was already chatting it up with Thomas, convincing him to let us switch teams.

 

“What was that for?” Marco asked, giving me a glare.  Jeez, what happened to his acting from this morning?

 

“I was saving your life.  I heard fangirls can steal souls,” I said in a low whisper.  Marco crossed his arms.

 

“Ha ha, very funny.  But seriously, what was that for?” Marco wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

 

“Connie said that me and you need to be on the same team.  He didn’t believe me when I said we were dating.  He’s pretty people smart, so I just need you to help me convince him that I was telling the truth.  Plus, it’ll really get the fangirls going,” I said, trying to appease Marco.

 

“Your plan isn’t working,” Marco said, not agreeing with the team switch in the slightest.  I groaned.

 

“Come on, I’m trying my hardest.  You need to act too!  The girls will calm down in a few days.  Everything is still so new to them,” I said exasperatedly.   “Who knows, maybe on Monday everyone will have forgotten and we can ‘break up’ early.” Marco groaned in response.  He let his shoulders relax and rubbed his temples.

 

“Fine, I’ll keep up the act,” Marco said with a growl.  “I’ll be on your pickle ball team, ok, baby?” Marco pretended to gag.  I gagged back.

 

“Alright, sounds fun, babe,” I said, grabbing two paddles for us and going to the court where Connie and Thomas were waiting.  When I came back I groaned.

 

“What?  I’m acting, just like you asked,” Marco said, returning Thomas’s serve.

 

“Let’s hold off on the pet names,” I said, spiking Connie’s pass.  I had to let my anger out somehow.

 

* * *

 

Marco and I, did in fact, destroy Connie and Thomas’s team.  Marco and I worked really well with mutual hatred as our base for teamwork.  But then came the walk to period 6/7.  Where was Marco going?  If he’s in the D-wing, I’ll have to murder someone.  I’m not walking to class with him again.  Once is enough.  I wasn’t the only one who wanted this.  Marco was insistent on walking with Thomas and Mina.  Mina wasn’t having any of it.

 

“Marco, walk with your boyfriend!  It’s fine, Thomas and I don’t mind!” She left the gym with a skip and a wave with Thomas beside her.  Connie walked away from me, gave me a salute, probably going to meet up Sasha, his strange platonic life partner.  I gave Marco a shy look and he sighed.

 

“Let’s go,” he said, frustration clear in his voice.  I shoved my fists into my pockets and stayed a few paces behind Marco.  He noticed that I was keeping my distance and turned his head around.

 

“Hey, you were the one hassling me about acting.  Get over here,” he said with a nod.  I grumbled under my breath and caught up to him.  I heard him sigh and watched him run  his fingers through his dark brown hair.  

 

“What?” I asked.  He seemed conflicted with something.

 

“I don’t want to do this, but we should hold hands when we walk together,” I heard him mumble.  Marco gave me a quick glance and I sighed in response.  I reluctantly gave him my hand and looked away from him, my face growing hot.

 

“I don’t wanna do this either,” I said, covering my face with my arm.  Thankfully, Marco didn’t interlace our fingers.  I’d probably slug him if he did.  Marco kept his gaze fixated in front of us, while I couldn’t help but cower in embarrassment.  His hand was growing sweaty from the contact.  Marco was probably just as embarrassed as I was.

 

The walk to period 6/7 was grueling and awkward, and I couldn’t help but feel hot stares on me while I tried shying away from Marco.  I hate the stares.  They make me feel exposed and vulnerable, like a colorblind chameleon.  I couldn’t blend into my surroundings, as every set of eyes were fixated on me and me alone.

 

* * *

 

It seemed like holding hands was going to be the worst of my fears, but that paled in comparison when I found out that Marco was in my lunch period.  I saw him waiting in front of the cafeteria’s doors, leaning against the opposite wall.  My jaw nearly hit the floor when I saw him waiting for me.

 

“Wh-what the hell are you doing here?” I asked, too shocked to come up with anything witty.  Marco rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m in my lunch period.  A little birdie told me that my boyfriend had the same lunch period as me, so I figured I’d wait for him.  What, you’re not happy?” Marco said, crossing his arms and giving me a sly look.  He’s getting pretty good at this “acting” business.  I internally screamed as I realized I had to play along with him.  Other students were piling into the cafeteria, and if I picked a fight with him now, the secret would be out.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” I made sure to stress the pet name, “but I was just very surprised.  I’m very happy that you have my lunch.  You can sit with me, Connie, and Sasha.” I grabbed Marco by his wrist and roughly led him to my table with my two best friends.  Connie and Sasha looked up from their soda can tower when they saw us join them at the table.

 

“Guess who’s joining us, guys!” I said, trying to keep a cheerful expression.  Sasha and Connie slowly turned to face each other.  Connie, I could tell, was still trying to figure out if I was joking about everything.

 

“Are you serious?  You’re inviting Freckles to our lunch table?” Connie asked, pointing his thumb to Marco.  I nodded.

 

“Yeah, I mean, he’s my boyfriend,” I said, trying to suppress nervous laughter.  Marco coughed into his elbow, also trying not to laugh.  Connie and Sasha just shrugged and continued building their tower.  Those two can be complete idiots sometimes.  They’re just going to make a mess.

 

Lunch was awkward and tense, mostly because Marco did not belong at my table.  He was too stuck up and snotty to participate in our sandwich building and fry-flicking.  Marco kept his arms crossed and communicated through unsatisfied huffing and groans.

 

“Jean, tell your boyfriend to quit being such a sourpuss,” Sasha complained, taking our wonderful sandwich monstrosity and taking a giant bite.  “He has no sense of humor,” Sasha mumbled through mouthfuls of sandwich.

 

“I’m not the boss of him,” I said, trying to avoid any conversation with Marco.  “He’s in one of his moods.  I can’t shut him up even if I tried.  Don’t push it.” I wished I hadn’t said that.  I really wished I hadn’t.  Connie and Sasha exchanged devilish looks and creeped up behind Marco and I.

 

“Wh-what are you guys doing?” I started, but before I knew it, Sasha and Connie were pushing Marco and I together, and we smacked foreheads.  I recoiled away and pressed my hands to my now red forehead.  Marco was holding his face in his hands.

 

“What was that for?” he groaned, looking down at the floor.

 

“You were supposed to kiss.  Kissing makes everything better!” Sasha said, letting out a girlish laugh.  My eyes widened in horror.  Kissing?  Me kissing Marco?  No way, that is never going to happen.  No way in hell am I letting Marco’s lips touch mine.

 

“No kissing!” Marco cried, startling me from my disgust.  Connie and Sasha just stared at him, and I stared too, because he yelled loud enough for most kids to stop and stare at us.  There goes our secret.

 

“I-I mean, no kissing just yet.  We, uh, Jean and I are saving it for the right moment,” Marco said, his face growing hot and flushed.  He pressed his fingers together and looked away from the three of us.  Connie and Sasha looked at each other again with confused expressions, and finally letting their guard down.  I looked over to Marco and grabbed his shoulder.  His head snapped to look at me.

 

“Thanks.” My expression was soft, much more relaxed than it’s been all day.  Marco relaxed as well.  His neutral expression was much more appealing to look at.

 

* * *

 

Then came the end of the day.  I planned to just run to my locker and then dash to my car all the way in field hockey.  But Marco wasn’t having it.  He was at my locker again, leaning against it.  He really has to stop trying to act so cool.  Marco is the opposite of cool.  He’s a huge nerd.  Especially in his khakis and polo shirts.

 

“Really, Marco?  Lemme in my locker,” I said, trying to push him away.  He much stockier than I anticipated, and his body did not budge.

 

“We have to finish up the day’s act,” he said, frustration and anger obvious in his voice.  I groaned.  

 

“Fine, but I’m only hugging you.” Marco moved away from my locker so I could grab my stuff for the homework that I was most likely not going to do.  I shut my locker and put my backpack on.  I turned to face Marco.

 

I could feel my heart beating quickly in my chest.  Why was I getting so nervous?  It’s just a fucking hug.  I don’t even want to hug him.  I sucked it up, and pulled Marco into the most awkward, tense hug I’ve had in my entire life.  He hesitated to put his arms around me, and even then, they hovered slightly over my back, just so he wouldn’t touch me.

 

A crowd had gathered around us.  Oh, no, they were going to want us to kiss.

 

“Marco, kiss him!” I heard a girl squeal.  My heart rate started surging.  No no no no no, I do not want to kiss him, especially not with all these freaks watching us.  Why do these people get off so bad to two guys sucking face?

 

I saw Marco scratch his head and blush.

 

“I guess we, uh, gotta do this,” he said in a hushed whisper.  He glared.  “I don’t want to.”

 

“Neither do I,” I said, swinging my feet.  I could tell the crowd was growing restless.

 

“Come on, kiss!” another girl cried.  I looked up at Marco.  He took a deep breath and placed both his hands gently on my shoulders.  He leaned down to meet me, and my breathing hitched.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  God damn it, he’s actually going to do it.  I started to meet him half way, closing my eyes and placing my hands on his waist.

 

To my surprise, his lips were soft and gentle.  We both knew that the crowd wouldn’t leave unless we made the kiss believable, so Marco started moving his mouth a little.  I kissed back, trying to make everything realistic to everyone watching us.  My heart grew even more erratic, my stomach twisted in knots, and it felt like my lips were on fire.  A guy in the crowd wolf-whistled at us.  At that, I pulled away and quickly took my hands off Marco’s waist.  He pulled away as well.  Both of our faces were hot with blush, and my heart still hadn’t calmed down.  The fangirls and fanboys left the scene and I nervously ran my hands through my hair.

 

Oh god oh god oh god.  I can’t believe that actually happened.

 

“Well, uh, see you tomorrow, Marco, bye!” I said, my voice quivering with embarrassment.  I ran away from him as quickly as I could.  I didn’t need Marco to see me like that, my face red as a tomato, my heart pounding, my stomach twisting in knots.  I was a complete and utter mess.

 

I sprinted to my car.  I didn’t care that I was carrying a giant backpack.  I needed to get home as quickly as possible so I could wash my mouth out.  Thankfully, the ride home is much quicker than the drive to school.  As soon as I made it to my bathroom, I brushed my teeth for about a half hour and swished mouthwash for at least ten minutes.

 

Every taste of Marco had left my mouth, but why were my lips still burning?  Why was my heart still beating like a jackrabbit on ecstasy?  My head was spinning.  What was going on with me?

  
Don’t tell me.  No, that’s the last thing I need to happen to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Jean's schedule at Rose Public High School (All of his classes are level 2 classes, or regular high school courses. He takes no honors.)
> 
> 1: Sociology  
> 2: PreCalculus  
> 3: Chemistry (1st year chem)  
> 4/5: Physical Education (Sem 1)/Health (Sem 2)  
> 6/7: Creative Writing (Sem 1)/Public Speaking (Sem 2)  
> 8: Lunch  
> 9/10: World Cultures (WC is a senior requirement)  
> 11/12: Study Hall  
> 13: Woodworking
> 
> Jean took it easy his senior year.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I based Rose Public High School and Trost after my own high school and hometown.
> 
> I might as well explain my school's scheduling system since Jean is too dumb to explain it himself. Ok, so there are 13 periods at my school with 8 classes and lunch. Each class is 42 minutes long and lunch is around 25 minutes. Periods 1, 2, 3, and 13 are all full 42 minute periods. After that, lunch is served on the even periods, 4, 6, 8, 10, and 12. These periods are all 25 minutes long. The odd periods 5, 7, 9, and 11 are about 15 minutes long. When you don't have lunch, you are in a combined period. So, if you don't have 4th lunch, then you would go to period 4/5. So, that means, when the bell rings signaling the end of lunch or an odd period, then there will be kids in the hallways while there are kids in class. Everyone goes to 13th period at the same time. The school day runs from 7:20-2:12.
> 
> Here are all the different schedules you can have at Rose Public High School/my high school:
> 
> If you have 4th period lunch: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5/6, 7/8, 9/10, 11/12, 13.  
> If you have 6th period lunch: 1, 2, 3, 4/5, 6, 7/8, 9/10, 11/12, 13.  
> If you have 8th period lunch: 1, 2, 3, 4/5, 6/7, 8, 9/10, 11/12, 13.  
> If you have 10th period lunch: 1, 2, 3, 4/5, 6/7, 8/9, 10, 11/12, 13.  
> If you have 12th period lunch: 1, 2, 3, 4/5, 6/7, 8/9, 10/11, 12, 13. (this is my schedule)
> 
> That means, if there are two kids, one with 4th lunch and the other with 12th lunch, they will NEVER see each other after 3rd period. 
> 
> I also have a tumblr! You can find me at http://radiogumdrop.tumblr.com/  
> It's basically a jeanmarco blog, and can be a little NSFW, just a little warning. I'll be tracking the tag fic: i hate how you smile


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